


Decision Speed

by incognitajones



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Star Wars Rare Pairs Exchange 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-04 13:10:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12771777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incognitajones/pseuds/incognitajones
Summary: Waking up with someone is an unfamiliar intimacy to Bodhi. Even if it’s a false one, given that this isn’t going to happen again, he decides that he likes it.





	Decision Speed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rosecake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosecake/gifts).



> You said that you _could read a thousand versions of how they met and how Bodhi ended up carrying the message for Galen and would still want more of that_... I hope so, because I couldn't resist writing yet another version of it.

Bodhi hasn’t spent a night anywhere but in barracks or a ship’s berth since he graduated from flight school. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to sleep at all in an unfamiliar place and with a stranger next to him, but he was tired enough to succumb when Galen muttered into his collarbone that it was late and he should stay.

At the time it seemed like nothing more than compensation, a simple thanks for the orgasm. Now, as he wakes on a soft bed and smooth sheets, with a warm body next to him, it’s an unimaginable luxury. Bodhi’s not prepared to leave it just yet. 

 

For the last six months Bodhi’s enjoyed talking with Galen Erso whenever their paths crossed in the canteen, playing the occasional game of dejarik or engaging in a battle of politeness over which of them should take the last piece of warra nut cake (they’re the only ones on Eadu who seem to have any taste for it). But he’d pegged the man in the category of straight, or simply not interested in sex at all; he always seemed remote and distracted, though courteous.

Last night, though, the scientists had been celebrating something and drinking to their success. When Bodhi got in late, cold, soaked through (as always on Eadu) and irritated from dealing with the worst inventory clerk on base, the sight of the canteen full of drunk engineers hollering at each other _finally! we’re nearly there!_ had almost made him turn on his heel and leave.

“To our fearless leader!” one had shouted, and raised his glass to the corner. Bodhi followed his line of sight and saw Galen, sitting alone, nursing a small glass of Corellian rum. He gave a tight smile and returned the toast with a tiny sip.

He didn’t look happy, just tired—more human and frayed than Bodhi had ever seen him. That gave Bodhi the impulse to carry his tray across the room and sit down at the same table. “What’s everybody celebrating?”

“A breakthrough. The team solved the last big technical issue of Tarkin’s initiative today. No reason we shouldn’t be able to carry out a live test within a few months.” Galen’s voice was grim, but Bodhi put it down to talking about Tarkin; everyone on Eadu seemed to more-or-less cordially hate the man, rivalled only by their distaste for Krennic. Thankfully, Bodhi had never met either. 

“Well, congratulations, then.” He hesitated. “You don’t sound that enthusiastic.”

Galen was silent for so long, staring down into his glass, that Bodhi worried he’d inadvertently offended him somehow. “I find I’m not in a celebratory mood,” he said at last. Then he looked up and smiled, and Bodhi caught his breath. “But I have a bottle of something better than this in my quarters. Would you like a drink?”

 

Galen’s quarters were smaller and starker than Bodhi would’ve expected, even in an Imperial research station. Surely the project head ought to rate something better than a single room and attached fresher, with a narrow band of windows too high on the wall to see anything out of? Then again, it wasn’t like Eadu had scenery to admire, unless you appreciated the sight of rocks being rained on.

While Galen uncorked a wide-bellied opaque bottle, Bodhi sat on the very edge of an upholstered bench that was the only furniture in the room apart from a large desk hidden under layered stacks of flimsi and datachips—and the neatly made bed. 

Did Galen want the same thing he did? From anyone else, an invitation to their quarters for a late night drink would be a clear signal, but it was entirely possible Galen was just being polite again. Bodhi swallowed and looked away from the bed before it became too obvious where he was staring.

Galen sat down on the bench, close enough that his shoulder brushed Bodhi’s, and handed him a tiny glass of a thick amber fluid. He tapped the rim of his own against it with a firm clink. “To progress.”

The drink smelled sweet and fruity, but it burned on the way down his throat and Bodhi coughed. He rested the half-empty glass on his knee, acutely aware of the silence, and tried to come up with something else to talk about. He could make small talk, if he had to. His eyes darted to the bed in the corner again and he forced himself to look back at Galen. 

Galen had finished the contents of his glass in one swallow. He licked his lips, and he was definitely looking at Bodhi's mouth, his pale gaze intent and distracting. Bodhi forgot whatever he’d been about to say. He kept his eyes on Galen’s as he tilted his head, leaned in slowly, and kissed him.

But Galen didn’t move, and for a hideous moment, Bodhi thought he’d managed to read the situation completely wrong after all.

Then Galen slid a hand up into Bodhi’s hair, loosening the tight hold of his braid, and drew him closer, so their mouths fit together perfectly. His lips were sweet and sticky. Bodhi pressed in, chasing the burning taste of liquor from Galen’s mouth.

Galen gasped and pulled away just far enough to speak, his lips brushing Bodhi's jaw. “Do you want...?"

Bodhi took a moment to breathe so that he wouldn’t agree too fast. "Yeah.”

"Good," Galen whispered. He set their glasses on the floor and drew him in for another kiss.

Once the two of them stopped trying to talk, things were much easier.

 

Waking up with someone is an unfamiliar intimacy to Bodhi. Even if it’s a false one, given that this isn’t going to happen again, he decides that he likes it. 

He strokes a hand down Galen’s stomach, humming at the feel of sleep-warmed skin beneath his fingertips. When he scratches lightly through the trail of wiry hair below Galen’s navel, the muscles beneath twitch—ticklish, perhaps. Bodhi repeats the gesture, smiling. He doesn’t realize that Galen’s awake until he rolls over on top of Bodhi, weighing him down pleasurably with his barrel chest.

“Good morning.” His voice is thick, scratchy with sleep.

“It is, isn’t it?” Bodhi can’t stop smiling. He shifts under Galen, just enough to rub his morning erection against the coarse hair of his thigh.

“And getting better.” Galen pins Bodhi to the bed at his hip with one broad hand. The other encircles Bodhi’s cock agonizingly slowly, strong fingers taking a firm grip and then dragging from the base to the tip, over and over. Bodhi bites back a moan, but can’t help shuddering.

Bodhi's closer than he thought he was; it’s a matter of minutes before he’s gasping and squeezing his eyes shut. Galen thumbs roughly at the head of his cock, sucks and bites at Bodhi’s fluttering pulse, and that’s it. Bodhi moans, probably too loud for the thin walls of these quarters, shaking as he comes all over Galen’s belly and his own.

Galen sits back on his heels and watches Bodhi with heavy-lidded eyes, stroking him absently with one hand as he shudders through the comedown. “So beautiful.”

Bodhi can feel the flush of awkward heat crawling up his neck. He props himself on his elbows and looks back at Galen somewhat defiantly. “You don’t have to sweet talk me.” He's already in the man’s bed, and all it took was a few stilted lines of conversation and one drink as an excuse.

“Can’t I take a moment to admire you?” 

Bodhi sits up and curls a hand around the back of Galen’s neck to pull him in for a kiss before any more words escape him, some desperately needy nonsense about how much Bodhi wants to stay here longer. To keep the words inside, he loses himself in Galen’s mouth and snakes a hand between them to grasp Galen’s cock.

At the feel of the hot, silky flesh rising into his grip, Bodhi looks down. He watches the slick head as he drags his thumb over it, proud of the soft, hungry sounds he manages to pull from Galen and the way his face loses its tension and relaxes. Bodhi hadn’t realized until he saw the lines smoothed out of Galen’s face how tense and strained he always is. He looks younger like this.

Bodhi kisses him again, harder, messier, winding his other hand into the silver strands falling over Galen’s face. Galen shudders, gasping into Bodhi’s mouth, and spills in Bodhi’s fist.

The two of them are still wrapped around each other, panting, when Galen grabs his undershirt from the pile of clothing beside the bed and roughly wipes both of them more or less clean. He lies down, pulling Bodhi with him, into the crook of his arm. “Stay,” he says in a rough, sleep-heavy voice. He seems almost lazy, totally relaxed in an unfamiliar way.

Bodhi tells himself another hour won’t hurt; just a little longer, before they go their separate ways. He lets the warm weight of Galen’s body draw him back down into sleep.

 

When Bodhi wakes a second time, Galen is already out of bed and getting dressed. 

Used to Jedha's stridently colourful aesthetic, Bodhi’s never cared for the cold austerity of the Empire, but he admires the way the severe lines of his uniform highlight Galen’s broad shoulders. Next to its sober dark grey, his silvered hair shines even brighter.

Galen looks at the rain beating against the high window and sighs. “A desert moon sounds rather inviting just now.”

“You should see it some day.” Bodhi blames his idiotic comment on still being half-asleep, but having said it he might as well go for broke. He dares to add, “Maybe I could take you.”

“My work keeps me on Eadu,” Galen says. The harsh lines are engraved in his face again. Bodhi wishes he could make them fade, but they don’t have time for that. 

“Right.” He sits up, running his fingers through the tangled wreck of his braid, and looks around for his flightsuit—there it is, crumpled in the corner. “Speaking of work, I have to go. I’m back on flight rotation this morning.”

Galen sets his hand on Bodhi’s shoulder and leans down, kissing him. This is it, he supposes, the moment when Galen lets him down gently and makes it clear that Bodhi was just a night’s entertainment. 

“When will you be back?” Galen slides his big, warm hand up Bodhi’s neck to cup his cheek.

Bodhi blinks, not sure he heard correctly. “Depends. Probably around three days.”

“I’d like to see you again,” Galen says. 

Taken aback, Bodhi doesn’t answer for a moment. His mouth parts slightly in surprise and Galen runs a thumb over his bottom lip. 

“I think we could be good for each other.” Galen seems almost nervous, strange for such a composed and quiet man. But this seems to have been a strange night for both of them. 

“I think so too.” Bodhi kisses the tip of Galen's thumb, and watches his pale eyes close in pleasure. “I’ll come back, if you want me to.”

**Author's Note:**

> In aviation, decision speed is "the speed at which stopping is no longer possible and the aircraft is committed to taking off."
> 
> Thanks to **AstridMyrna** for kind and thoughtful beta commentary.


End file.
